Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 161

161

Sienna’s POV

The room became quieter when I glanced at her. The outside noise echoed with only the faint sound of traffic, while inside they were simply talking to two friends who had been through a lot.

It dawned on me that Livia was more than just an editor or a writer.

She witnessed all aspects of my life, from the time I wrote out of frustration to the moment I dared to write truthfully.

After hearing her words, I retreated to my chair. My writing always made me cry, not because of sadness but because I felt someone understood my words. The pain, loss, and hope that I had concealed between the lines had somehow reached out to another person. How fortunate! It was magical.

I breathed deeply, examining my fingers as they stretched. Memories of prolonged writing nights, such as dim desk lighting, typing in silence, and iced coffee always seem to fade away before I could finish. It was as though each moment had been part of a long journey and now it feels all together, somehow.

Livia displayed her phone to me and exclaimed, “This is a beautiful story. The head editor of the judging panel noted that it was like embracing smugmugs. This is an uncommon accolade in this genre.”

For an extended period, I remained silent and focused on the sentence.

I felt a sudden surge of emotion and pride in my chest.

I realized that the journey of writing this story was not solely about the competition.‘ The objective was to find peace with my past, myself, and the things I believed were beyond my power.

I felt light. It wasn’t just because the story was finished, but also because I knew my words had found their way

home.

With a faint smile, I glanced at Livia once more and whispered, “You’re right,” giving her the perfect answer. Maybe I was meant to end this story.” She nodded in agreement. Then she moved to sleep. 1

Without hesitation, Livia nodded and smiled…

Upon opening my laptop, I noticed the manuscript file that had “The End” on its final page. I finally found courage

after hundreds of nights, thousands of feelings, and a single word. It’s just two words.”

11

“The last section was a little slow, which I had concerns about.” I said, “I wanted readers to feel at ease, but not bored.

Livia gave a soft, confident recollection. “You have done it perfectly,” she said.

The pace is just right, quiet yet meaningful. You allowed your characters to have a chance to heal, share their feelings, and express their emotions.

“I’m curious, did you write part of that story from your own perspective?”

After some hesitation, I nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

1/4

I think there was a little too much of my personal life that went into it.

“That’s a positive outcome,” she stated quickly. “Your writing, Sienna, is what makes it so authentic.”

The honesty of every sentence is detectable by readers.

The waiter brought Livia’s drink, and we both remained silent. I observed the swirl of caramel foam on her glass before hearing her speak again, this time with a more gentle tone.

Despite her tone, she was still moving and heartbreakingly silent. Her perspective on me this time was not that of an editor reviewing a manuscript, but rather one who had faith in me.

I let out a deep breath as I spoke. “I never thought the story would make it this far.”

Nonetheless, it expanded beyond that.

Livia smiled softly. “You wrote with integrity. People can feel that.”

I looked out the window. People were rushing past the busy street outside, with cars passing by intermittently and coffee still being in every corner. It was getting more and more noisy. Despite the commonplaceness of everything, I felt like something was different.

Writing had been a constant activity for me, as I needed secluded places to express myself.

I encapsulated the pain, loss, and complicated love in fiction to prevent unnecessary suffering. It was a remarkable achievement. Hearing Livia’s words made me wonder if the story was not meant for me. It’s possible that someone else out there had to hear it.

Livia had a sip of water. “Many writers endeavor excessively to sound flawless. But you’re different. You allow your characters to be fragile, but you still let them persevere through the mistakes. It’s precisely this that makes readers fall in love.”

A faint smile was shed upon me, slightly ashamed. “Just write down what I’m feeling.”

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